Mourning a Hero
by ka-mia2286
Summary: The PTB's newest champion mourns a woman who not only walked with heros but was one


**Summary: **The PTB's newest champion mourns a woman who not only walked with heros but was one.

**Spoilers:** All of Angel is fair game.

**Feedback:** Please, it would be nice.

**Disclaimer:** Joss owns the characters, all I can claim ownership to is the idea.

* * *

MOURNING A HERO

Connor walked slowly through the streets of LA, allowing his feet to lead him, no true destination in mind. He relied on his senses to warn him if danger was near as he lost himself in his thoughts. A rather dangerous thing to do while waling through LA at night but he couldn't stand being in the hotel any longer.

Connor allowed his thoughts to turn to his father, his real father. Angel had been missing every since the battle of the Black Thorn. Angel, Gunn, Spike, and Illyria had been separated during the battle, after Angel forced Spike to get Gunn to the hospital before the man died. By the time Spike had returned the battle was over and Illyria was searching through the bodies of dead for any signs of Angel.

Just what caused for that portal to appear out of they sky that night and end the battle no one knew. Spike believed that the 'Powers That Be finally decided to get off their lazy arses and step in and lend a bloody helpin' hand'. According to Illyria a portal had appeared in the middle of the alleyway and pulled in the demons sent by the Senior Partners. If Angel had been pulled in as well Illyria could neither confirm or deny.

Connor spent every night for the past two weeks searching for a sign...any sign of his father. In away it was ironic that Connor was spending his summer actually searching for his father. When a two years ago he was trying to keep people from finding Angel.

Spike, Gunn and Illyria told Connor repeatedly that it was pointless, that if Angel was alive then he would find his way to the hotel. But Connor had to hold out hope that his father was still alive...er...undead.

He had lost so many people in his life already that Connor couldn't afford to lose his father as well. The young man was still reeling form the lost of Cordelia, not the Cordy that returned from a higher plane, but the Cordy who had cleansed a boy named Steven of all of the hate that had seeped into him when he was in Quor-toth.

And maybe the blow that had hit Connor the hardest in the recent weeks was the loss of the Rileys. They had turned their backs on him when they watched Connor slay a small army of vampires that attacked the family as they tried to make their way out of LA. The Rileys couldn't handle what Connor was, and seeing the looks of horror on their faces Connor knew that they never would. It was one thing to see their son hit by a speeding truck and get up without a scratch on him. But it was another to see their son systematically take out nearly ten vampires in under five minutes.. In truth Connor couldn't blame the Rileys ... and yet he thought that they would have loved him no matter what, after all they had been magically programmed to hadn't they?

All the same Connor went in search of family he knew would accept him. Only to find that his father was missing; Lorne had left town for good; and Wesley was dead like his beloved Fred. Fred... she was the true reason Connor had to leave the hotel that night. It was so hard for him to look at Illyria and to not think of sweet, innocent and deadly with a taser Fred.

If there was one thing that Connor regretted that he had done in his life, it was sinking his father in the depths of the ocean and then playing Fred an Gunn for fools all summer long. The couple had taken care of Connor, and despite himself Connor had come to love them. Fred most of all. She had become the closest thing Connor had to a mother over those months.

As clear as if it was yesterday, Connor could remember the nights Fred would hold him after he had nightmares of portals returning him back to Quor-toth. If there was anyone who understood Connor's fears of portals it had been Fred. For Fred confessed that she often dreamed of a place called Pylea and the demons their who had tortured her, used her and those like her as cattle.

After his nightmares, Connor would dampen Fred's shirt with his tears and she would whisper words of comfort into his ears, promising that all would be alright in the morning and that he would never have to return to Quor-toth. Connor had never known such kindness and the first time Fred had shown it Connor had been ashamed that he had shown such weakness. He pushed himself away from her and made motion to leave the safety of his bedroom. Yet Fred grabbed his hand and held on to him. Connor remembered being surprised by the strength that resided in Fred's small frame.

"It's okay to cry Connor," Fred had told the boy. Connor didn't cry anymore that night but the second time the nightmares came Connor allowed the tears to flow without shame. He allowed himself to curl up and Fred's lap and for her to rock him back to sleep as though he were the little boy he never got a chance to be.

No one -not even Gunn- knew of those nights. And when Cordelia -or was she possessed by then- had stayed with Connor in his flat the boy learned to hold back his screams. He had loved Cordelia -at the very least been deeply infatuated with her- but he knew that she couldn't make him feel safe not the way that Fred had. Connor had lost count of the many nights after the Beast emerged from the alley way in which Connor had been born and wake up a scream on his lips wishing that he could run to Fred and have her tell him that it would all be better.

Fred had done so much more than just make Connor feel safe. Fred was the one who had taken upon herself to educate Connor. Holtz had taught the boy to read, write, and to do simple math. But when Fred learned that Connor had a thirst for knowledge she gave him book after book to read, teaching Connor all about science, history, art, and math Connor devouring it all. Together -and sometimes accompanied by Gunn- the two would go to the museums on the weekends and Connor was exposed to culture.

Once they had even gone to the ballet and he had cried at the beauty of it. Never during his life in Quor-toth was Connor exposed to such beauty. Connor still didn't know where Fred and Gunn had gotten the money for the tickets. Money had been tight that summer and Connor knew that the tickets and his suit had cost a pretty penny. Yet Fred had said that the money had been well spent.

Connor had realized strait away just how brilliant Fred was, she had to be just to balance the money and to keep the bills paid, food on the table and everyone clothed. One afternoon during his lessons Connor had innocently asked Fred why she wasn't published like the scientist in the magazines Fred gave him to read. He didn't know that it was the push that Fred needed to publish her work.

Connor was the only one who had known that Fred had submitted her theory, and had supported her wholeheartedly. He had just wished that she had told him that she had been given the opportunity to speak at the physicist conference, he would have loved to hear her even if he hadn't understood every word.

* * *

Connor looked up and was shocked to find that he was in a cemetery. Not only was he in a cemetery he was at the memorial that had been created for Fred. Of course the physicist hadn't been buried, there had been no body. But Angel and the rest of the Fang Gang had gone all out and had a beautiful sculpture of an angel created, inscribed upon it were the words: 

'_Winifred Burkel: Not only did she walk with heros, she was one'_

"You really were a hero Fred," Connor whispered tracing the lettering on the memorial. "And so much more. You were the gang's heart and soul after we...they lost Cordy. I-I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for lying to you and Gunn all summer long. You did so much for me and I repaid you with lies. All I can say in my defense is I was confused and had been manipulated by my fa- by Holtz. When I saw the hate in your eyes...the anger at my betrayal, I never felt more ashamed. God Fred I'm so sorry, I wish that I could of had that second chance to get to know you again, like I got with Dad and Gunn."

Connor felt dampness on his cheeks and furiously wiped away the tears.

"A lass once told you that it was alright to cry," A voice said from behind. Connor spun around in shock and anger. Shock over the fact that someone had been able to sneak up on him, and angry that his privet moment of grief had been interrupted. Before him stood a pale man, in a rather loud lime green bowling shirt and leather jacket. Connor sniffed the air and realized that the man wasn't human, but nor was he a vampire.

"Who are you?" Connor snapped.

"A friend," The dark haired man replied in an Irish accent.

"I don't need a friend," Connor retorted.

"I never said I was yours lad. The name's Doyle, Alan Francis Doyle. But don't go spreading that little fact around," Doyle winked at the boy.

"I know that name...Doyle," Connor muttered mostly to himself. "Why?"

"Me Princess may have mentioned me t' you. Or yer old man," Doyle shrugged his shoulders casually.

"Your Princess?" Connor questioned rasing an eyebrow.

"Cordelia," Doyle answered a smile crossing his features, there was an emotion behind that smile and Connor recognized it to be love. "Me, her and Angel go way back. We started Angel Investigations together."

"Wait...if you're who I think you are you're dead. Dad told me about you and how you sacrificed you life for a bunch of half breed demons," Connor said confused.

"Aye so I did. Defining moment o' me life... and ironically the moment that ended me life," Doyle frowned slightly.

"How are you here if your dead?" Connor asked.

"Two ladies asked for a favor and who am I to argue with me Princess and a beautiful lass like Winifred?" Doyle replied. "The two of them are worried about you boy. They've been watchin' over you. Complaining that if you got any thinner you'd be incorporeal."

"Must of been Fred who said that... Spike, he said that when Illyria took over Fred's body...that her soul was destroyed," Connor whispered.

"One thing you got t' learn about demons, especially the Old Ones is that they like to stretch the truth," Doyle told Connor. "Listen, why don't we continue this little chat of ours in a nice pub I know. Haven't been their in a while and 'm parched. 'Course Princess will be a bit angry with me, wants me t' lay off the drinking you know?"

"Uh sure," Connor said and followed the half demon out of the graveyard and towards a rather shady area of town that Connor often patrolled for Gunn. Connor wasn't sure why he trusted Doyle but he just did.

"What are you by the way?" Connor questioned Doyle as he was led into a demon bar.

"I'll have you know that 'm very much human..." Doyle said than sneezed, his face was transformed and the Irish man resembled a green pin cushion. "On me mother's side that is."

"So I see," Connor said dryly as Doyle's human face returned.

"Hey I'm more human than you are lad," Doyle said as he gestured to the human behind the bar. "Bartender a single malt scotch for me and a-" Doyle paused and looked at Connor. "Are you even legal?"

"In this world I should only be two years old, but I spent seventeen years or so in a hell dimension," Connor told the Irishman.

"Right then...a root beer for the boy then," Doyle told the bar tender.

"I can hold my liquor," Connor scowled.

"And I don't doubt it lad. Your Irish so of course you can. But I don't want to haft t' face the wrath of Cordelia and Fred when they learned I allowed you to drink on me watch," Doyle said in his defense.

"Fred and Cordy can be a bit frightening," Connor agreed his thoughts flashing back to Fred and her taser.

"Aye that they can be. And right intimidating those two,"Doyle remarked.

"Doyle...why are you hear?" Connor questioned taking a sip of the root beer that had been placed in front of him.

"I told you, the girls are worried about you. And like the powers were worried about your father, the girls want me to put back on your path," Doyle told Connor. The Irish man then downed half of his scotch and smiled. "I'm gonna have t' have a few more of these, haven't had a decent drink or any for that matter in nearly five years."

"You aren't suppose to be drinking on the job Doyle," A English accented voice chided.

"Yer worse than 'Delia, Wes," Doyle sighed spinning around on the bar stool to face a slightly irritated Wesley Whydam-Pryce. Wesley frowned as Doyle finished the rest of his drink and then faced Connor and smiled.

"Hello Connor. It's good to see you again, Fred and Cordelia send their greetings and to say that you better start eating properly or they'll have to come down here themselves," Wes teased.

"I might have to take then up on that threat," Connor said more than slightly serious.

"It's an empty threat Connor," Wes sighed sitting in the empty seat next to Connor. Doyle had ordered two more glasses of scotch and slid one down to Wes, with the Englishman accepted.

"How is it an empty threat?" Connor questioned.

"The powers won't allow the girls to see you. And of course the girls are absolutely livid about that wee fact," Doyle answered. "They wanted for me to tell you that if they had it their way that they'd be here with you right now."

"But passing on messages isn't the only reason we're here Connor. The powers have sent us to get their newest champion on track," Wesley told the teen.

"I'm no champion Wesley...Dad said so himself," Connor said a bit of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"And you weren't then, but you are now Connor." Wesley replied.

"I don't want to be a champion, I just want to find my father. Can...Can you at least tell me if he's alive or not?" Connor begged.

"Your father was injured badly during the battle of the Black Thorn Connor, but he wasn't killed. The portal sucked him in but did not transport him to where the army of the Black Thorn was returned. Angel was sent to friends in England where he could heal," Wesley informed Connor.

"Here you'll need these," Doyle said passing Connor four plane tickets, passports and a large amount of money.

"Why are you doing all of this?" Connor asked.

"Fred," Wesley said simply. "She fought the powers tooth and nail to allow us to help you and your father be reunited. She had no doubt that the two of you would be reunited eventually but she realized that you both need each other more than ever right now, especially after what happened with the Rileys."

"I don't deserve her kindness," Connor whispered to himself.

"Don't Connor. Don't beat yourself up about the past. Now you need to get going your plane leaves tomorrow and Doyle and I must be returning," Wesley said.

"Aye so we must," Doyle sighed looking at his scotch longingly. "It was good meeting you lad and tell your old man that I miss him and to take good care of that slayer of his this time around."

"I will," Connor promised. Doyle threw down a wad of bills on the bar and the three went outside.

"Goodbye Connor, maybe we'll meet again," Wesley said shaking the teen's hand.

"Maybe," Connor echoed. "And tell Fred and Cordy that they are missed."

"They already know." Doyle replied. And with that the Irishman and Englishman disappeared as quickly has they had appeared. It was then that Connor uncurled his had that Wesley had shaken. In Connor's palm laid a folded note. Connor ran back to his room at the hotel anxious to read it.

He climbed through his window not ready to talk to Spike, Gunn or Illyria. Connor laid down on his bed and carefully unfolded the letter. It was short at to the point, containing none of Fred's usualy ramblings.

* * *

'_I don't blame you for that summer Connor. You were confused, and lied to by a man you thought loved you. Something that has happened to you on more than one occasion. Just know this Connor, I never lied about my feeling for you. That summer you were the son I was never given the chance to have. Know that I will always be watching over you and that in our line of work 'goodbye' isn't forever._

_With all my love,_

_Fred._

_P.S. Don't forget that it's okay to cry.'

* * *

_

And cry Connor did and for a moment he thought that he smell a familiar scent of vanilla in the air that he had always associated with Fred.


End file.
